The Eighth Horcrux
by HugsandBugsSmileyface
Summary: When Voldemort "killed" Harry, he killed the last horcrux. However, killing again caused his soul to rip once more, into an 8th horcrux. Albus Potter, Harry's son, is now dealing with his own prophecy. Al's literally living his father's life. May contain slash. T.
1. A Slytherin Sorting

A/N: Okay, this is going to be the first chapter of a REALLY EPIC plot-filled story. I swear, I got the idea for this and just COULDN'T stop writing. So, if you like it, tell all your friends. : ] I started on this story a few years ago, and stopped for some reason. But now, I have the inspiration to write again! : ]

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Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

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Albus Potter was having a restless night. Seeing as it was August 31, the day before he left for his first year at Hogwarts, he was half expecting it to be a restless night. But Albus' restlessness was not ue to apprehension. It was due to prophecy. In fact, he was so restless, he woke himself up.

 _Days rewound, Nights unfurlled,_

 _Feel the struggles and the toil_

 _What was he is now you_

 _Followed footsteps his life through_

 _Change it not, for there are dire consequences._

 _Those that die shall not live again_

 _Those that fought shant lose_

 _They thought he was done,_

 _But he now lives in his son,_

 _The eighth horcrux of the end._

Albus had no idea what it was talking about, so he decided to fall back asleep. When he awoke, however, Albus wasn't greeted by his own bedroom, but rather a cramped room, that barely had any light. What had woken him up was a woman's voice. His mother Ginny's, probably.

"Up! Get up! NOW!" she screeched.

Albus flinched. He'd never heard his mother yell like that. Did he do something? Sitting up, he noticed that he couldn't see very well, so he looked for a light switch. There wasn't one on the wall, but fumbling around in the dark, he noticed a chain hanging down from the ceiling. He pulled on it, and a faint light emittted from a single light bulb with no cover on it.

"What the bloody hell?" Albus wondered. Where was he? This looked like...a cupboard.

"Are you up yet?" the woman's voice demanded.

"Nearly," said Albus, fumbling around. "Where-" But he couldn't get the rest of his sentance out because his mother shouted again.

"Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Dudley's birthday."

Albus yawned. "Who?" he asked.

"What did you say? Are you losing you memory as well as being stupid?" his mother snapped through the door.

"What?…"

Dudley's birthday?—who on earth was Dudley? The only Dudley that Albus knew of was his dad's cousin Dudley. And who was this woman? She most certainly was NOT his mother. His mother was sweet, kind. This woman most definitely wasn't.

Albus groaned and looked for something to wear. He noticed that he was already wearing clothes, and he was only missing some socks. He didn't see any other clothes for him to wear. After looking aroung for a bit, Albus found a pair of socks. Shuddering as he pulled a spider off of it, he quickly put them on and opened the door.

Where was he? This wasn't his house. Albus, finding his bearings,went down the hall and into what he supposed was the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all these birthday presents. It looked as though there was new computer, a second television and a racing bike. Dear Merlin.

He was definitely right about this woman not being his mother. She looked nothing like his mother. This woman was thin, with a long neck and beady eyes. She was glaring at Albus like he was nastier than a slug.

"Watch. The. Bacon." She told him, ushering him over to the stove, where she gave Albus a spatula, and then hurried out of the kitchen to go get her son, Albus supposed.

Was she kidding? Albus had never really cooked much of anything in his life. His mother was always the one that made breakfast, and never the simple muggle way like this. Albus sighed and just did as he was told. This was all probably just a dream. Yeah. A dream.

A man, big and beefy, entered the kitchen as Albus was cooking.

"Comb your hair!" he barked, as a morning greeting.

"Ha, no chance." Albus muttered, too low for the man to hear him. His hair was just like his father's. Unruly, grew all over the place.

Albus was frying eggs when the Dudley boy arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like the big beefy man. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Albus put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn't much room, due to the many presents. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his them. His face fell in dissapointment.

"Thirty-six," he said, looking up at whom Albus assumed was his mother and father. "That's two less than last year."

Albus snickered. If he ever even ASKED for thirty-six presents for his birthday, his mother would smack him upside the head.

"What are you snickering about, boy?" asked the fat beefy man.

Albus shooke his head, smiling slightly, but quickly said, "Nothing." This man was intimidating. He had an aura about him that Albus could sense, one that said, "I can threaten, but not physically hurt."

"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here under this big one from Mummy and Daddy." the skinny necked woman said.

"All right, thirty-seven then," said Dudley, going red in the face.

The woman obviously scented danger, because she quickly said, "And we'll buy you another two presents while we're out today. How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right?"

'Spoilt brat' Albus thought.

Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty… thirty…"

Albus stiffled a snicker. This boy had to be the most spoilt brat in existance.

"Thirty-nine, sweetums," said the woman.

"Oh." Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then."

Big-beefy man chuckled.

"Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy, Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's hair.

At that moment the telephone rang and the woman went to answer it while Albus and te fat man watched Dudley unwrap a racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR.

'Dear Merlin!' Albus thought again.

He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried.

"Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take him."

She jerked her head in Albus' direction.

So, the fat man's name was Vernon, huh?

Dudley's mouth fell open in horror.

"Now what?" asked the woman, glaring furiously at Albus as though he'd planned this. Albus resisted the urge to stick his tounge out at the horrible woman.

"We could phone Marge," Vernon suggested.

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy."

"What about what's-her-name, your friend — Yvonne?"

"On vacation in Majorca," snapped the long-necked woman.

"I suppose we could take him to the zoo,"she said slowly, "… and leave him in the car…"

"That car's new, he's not sitting in it alone…"

Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn't really crying — Albus could tell that much. His sister Lily'd gotten away with a lot thanks to those very same crocodile tears. The woman was an easy target, however, and fell right for it. Those fake tears. Albus thought.

"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let him spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him.

"I… don't… want… him… t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "He always sp-spoils everything!" Ha gave Albus a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms.

"Git" Albus thought.

Just then, the doorbell rang — "Oh, good Lord, they're here!" said the woman frantically — and a moment later, she ushered in the boy and his mother. The strange people that seemed so familiar, but so foreign, having no other option, decided to take Albus along with them.

After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers, Dudley's friend, Albus learned, wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Vernon's car and crushed it into a trash can-but at the moment it didn't look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.

Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils.

"Make it move," he whined at his father. Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn't budge.

"Do it again," Dudley ordered. Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on.

"This is boring," Dudley moaned. He shuffled away.

Albus moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. He wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself — no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long.

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Albus'.

It winked.

Albus stared. Did that snake just do what he thinks it did? Then he looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They weren't. He looked back at the snake and winked, too.

The snake jerked its head toward Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Albus a look that said quite plainly:

"I get that all the time."

"I know," Albus felt himself saying, murmured through the glass, though he wasn't sure the snake could hear him. "It must be really annoying."

The snake nodded vigorously.

"Wait. Y-You understand me? I-I'm a..a.. a parslemouth?" Albus spluttered out.

The snake simply nodded.

"How? Why? I've never been able to do this before!"

The snake simply looked at him and opend his mouth in a low hiss that Albus was sure he was the only one who could hear or understand it.

"Days rewound, Nights unfurlled,

Feel the struggles and the toil

What was he is now you

Followed footsteps his life through

Change it not, for there are dire consequences.

Those that die shall not live again

Those that fought shant lose

They thought he was done,

But he now lives in his son,

The eighth horcrux of the end."

Albus just stared in horror. What on earth?

Just then, a deafening shout behind Albus made both him jump.

"DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!"

Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could.

"Out of the way, you," he said, punching Albus in the ribs. Caught by surprise, Al fell hard on the concrete floor.

"OI!"

What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened — one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror.

Albus sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished. Did he do that? He hasn't even gone to Hogwarts yet and he's already doing magic. Well, it least it was for a good cause. Albus thought, looking at Piers' and Dudley's soaking persons.

The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.

As the snake slid swiftly past him, Albus could have sworn a low, hissing voice said, "Remember the prophecy, Albus Potter. Remember it well."

The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.

"But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go?"

The zoo director himself made Dudley's mother a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as Al had seen, the snake hadn't done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Vernon's car, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all was Piers calming down enough to say, "Harry was talking to it, weren't you, Harry?"

"Harry?" Albus thought. How odd. I'm not Harry. That's dad's name.

Suddenly Albus realized why this family seemed familiar. It's because they were the Muggle family that had raised, for lack of a better word, his own father. What was he even doing here? Albus just kept his mouth shut, adamant that this was all a dream.

Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on Albus. He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to say, "Go — cupboard — stay — no meals," before he collapsed into a chair, and his wife had to run and get him a large brandy.

Albus lay in the dark cupboard much later, finally falling asleep.

The next morning, Albus woke up in his own bed. It was September 1st, and he was going to Hogwarts today. See? He had told himself it was all just a dream. A vivid, vivid...dream.

Platform 9 3/4

Albus Severus wriggled out of his mother's grasp as he headed down the train, looking for a compartment. There was probably room next to his brother, James, but after his teasing today Albus didn't really feel like sitting with him.

He made his way to the back of the train where an empty compartment was. Albus knew that it was silly to be this worried, but what if James was right? What if he WAS in Slytherin? Sighing, Albus closed his eyes and remembered what his father had said right before he had gotten on the train.

Albus Severus, you were named for two headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them, was a Slytherin, and he was possibly one of the bravest men that I ever knew.

Did his father REALLY not care where Albus ended up? He knew that Harry would like for him to be in Gryffindor, but if he didn't end up there, was there a possibility that Harry would love him any less? Of course not. He said so himself.

Albus's thoughts were interrupted when he heard a rapping sound on his compartment door.

He looked up to see a boy about his age, carrying a heavy trunk behind him.

"Hi" Albus said.

"Hi." responded the boy, "Do you mind if I sit with you?" he asked.

"Not at all. Come in." Al said, motioning to the seat in front of him.

The boy complied, dragging his heavy trunk inside and Al, being the nice guy he was, decided to help him.

Soon the boy's trunk and everything inside of it was put away. The boy sat down.

"So, what's your name?" The boy asked.

"Albus. Albus Potter. Yours?" Al asked.

Suddenly the boy's eyes widened.

"You mean you're..." the boy trailed off.

"Yeah. I'm Harry Potter's son." Al stated. He got this all the time.

The boy grinned cheekily.

"Well, yes, but...I was talking about your mother, Ginny Potter. The famous Chaser! I love her! Do you think you could get me an autograph?" the boy smiled.

Al grinned.

It was nice for other people to see him as Ginny Potter's son instead of Harry's. It was a rare thing, that.

"Sure. I'm sure she'd be happy to." Al smiled back at the boy.

"So, do you know what house you'll be in?" the boy asked.

Al cringed, and shook his head "No."

"Yeah." his ocmpanion said. "I guess no one really knows until they get there, huh?" he asked.

Al nodded.

"So...what's your name?" Al asked.

The boy shook his head, as if he was coming out of a daze. "Oh. How rude of me. I'm sorry. I'm Scorpius. Scorpius Malfoy." He said, extending his pale arm for Albus to shake.

Albus shifted his weight, then smiled.

"Nice to meet you, Scorpius." he said, shaking the boy's hand.

The boy smiled, then looked down.

"What's the matter?" Albus asked.

"Oh, nothing...it's just...usually whenever someone hears the name "Malfoy, well..."

Al nodded his head in understanding.

"I understand. Trust me, I do. But I don't really care what your surname is. You're just Scorpius to me."

Scorpius grinned. "I'm glad. So...what house do you think you'll be in?"

Al shrugged. "I don't know. My brother's been teasing me that I'll end up in Slytherin, but..."

"Why tease? If you go there, you go there. All my family's been in Slytherin, and I really doubt that I'll be the one to break tradition." Scorpius said.

"Really? But you seem so nice."

"Not all Slytherins are bad people, Al. The house just has a bad reputation. Slytherin house is for the crafty. People with Ambition, Cunning, Determination, Resoursefulness...does that sound like a bad thing to have?" Scorpius asked.

"No...I guess not." Al muttered.

"Then stop worrying. No matter where you end up getting sorted, it'll be right for you. What are your traits?"

"Huh?" Al asked.

"What do you like to do? Do you read alot?"

Al shook his head.

"Not really. I mean, I'm fairly smart, but that title goes to Rose."

"Do you try to break up fights with other people? Are you courageous?"

"Not much. Confidentially, I don't really have alot of self-confidence. And I'm a bloody coward! You know I'm afraid of flying? Yes, son of Harry Potter, world's greatest seeker and Ginny Potter, celebrated player for the Hollyhead Harpies, afraid of a broom."

Scorpius smirked.

"Are you loyal? Would you stick by them through thick and thin?"

"Honestly...yes. But...Oh no...I'm going to be a Hufflepuff!"

"You don't know that, Al. Hufflepuff's aren't that bad anyway."

Albus huffed. "I'd rather be in Slytherin."

Scorpius smirked again.

Al blinked. What had he just said?

"Wait. I...no...I didn't mean..."

"Slytherin's not looking so bad after all, is it, Al?"

"I never said it'd be bad..."

Scorpius smirked.

"Face it my friend. We're halfway to Hogwarts, we haven't even been sorted yet, and you're already acting like a Slytherin."

Al smiled. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, being a Slytherin. That house got an awful name for itself.

"I still say I'll be in Hufflepuff." Albus frowned.

Scorpius just laughed.

As the train pulled in to the Hogwarts station, Albus felt himself tense with worry. What was going to happen here? His fate lied behind those walls. Would he actually be sorted into Slytherin? He couldn't process it. What would happen? What would everyone say if he WAS sorted into Slytherin? Would people think less of him? His father said that they wouldn't. However, Albus couldn't shake the feeling that, not only was he going to be sorted into Slytherin, but he had a destiny much greater than that of his father.

"Come on, mate." Scorpius patted his back as they were exiting the train. "You can't stare at the castle forever."

Was that what he had been doing? Albus couldn't remember. He just knew that he'd spaced out for a minute.

"Mate?" Scorpius asked.

"I'm...okay. It's just a lot to take in."

"Well, we're here. Don't think negative thoughts anymore. You'll be sorted into whatever house you're sorted in. There's no use whining like a child."

Albus sighed, a deep heavy sigh. Apparently Scorpius had thought that Al had been worried that he would be sorted into Slytherin. He was, but not as much as before. His talk with Scorp had cured him of that.

"Well?" Scorpius asked.

"Let's go." Al said with determination.

There was not a long walk up the steps to the Great Hall, but it felt like an eternity to Albus. his feet felt as if they were filled with led, and walking was becoming a chore. Scorpius had to keep him steady more than once.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Scorpius asked him as they waited outside the Great Hall.

Al nodded. "Yeah. I'm fine. I don't know what's gotten into me. I'll be fine with a little bit of rest."

Scorpius looked wary. "I dunno. You don't look so good. You may be coming down with something. No good can come out of falling into the Great Lake."

Al snorted.

"Har har."

They waited outside the doors that led to the Great Hall for quite awhile. It seemed like forever until Professor Longbottom came to get them.

"It's time. Follow me."

The doors to the Great Hall opened before them and they got to take in the scenery around. Candles floated just above their heads, right below a huge ceiling that looked like the night sky. Apparently, it was bewitched, informed Rose. Just like her to know everything. A complete know-it-all that one.

"When i call your name, you will come up, I will place the Sorting Hat on your head and you will be sorted. There will be no fighting a troll, or any of that rubbish you might've heard before coming here." Neville said.

Albus breathed a sigh of relief. James had said he'd have to fight a troll, but Albus didn't really believe him. It was only now that his mind was put completely to rest.

"Faye, Abbot!"

A small, skinny girl with blonde hair went up to the stool and sat down./P

"Hufflepuff!"

She took off the hat and went to go sit with her new house-mates.

"Braksley, Tomas!"

"Gryffindor!"

"Braksley, Abbot!"

"Slytherin!"

"Oh...that's sad. Separating twins in different houses. And rival houses, at that." Scorpius whispered to Albus.

Albus could do nothing but nod his head in agreement.

"Cabbot, Amanda!"

"Ravenclaw!"

"Dursely, Hope!" (No, not those Dursley's.)

"Hufflepuff!"

And so on and so on went the list of first years to be sorted. He was tuning them out until he heard,

"Malfoy, Scorpius!"

It took awhile, but the hat finally bellowed out,

"Slytherin!"

Scorpius went to the Slytherin table. Al noticed how Neville's face was unsurprised.

"Nott, Ragen!"

"Slytherin!"

"Otterpole, Jasmine!"

"Gryffindor!"

"Potter, Albus!"

Albus walked up nervously. His fears were coming back to him, though he couldn't understand why. He decided that he would just sit there. Do nothing. Let the hat make it's own decision on where he thought Albus would be best sorted.

It seemed like an eternity, but finally the house shouted,

"Slytherin!"

And to tell you the truth, Albus wasn't that surprised. His family; however, was. There was an outraged cry from the Gryffindor table that Albus was sure had come from his brother. "No way!" He'd heard. But Professor Longbottom hushed him up real quickly while Albus headed over to the Slytherin table.

Scorpius grinned at him.

"I told you, yeah?" he grinned.

Albus pushed his shoulder playfully. "Prat."

"First years! Follow me to the dormotories!" A prefect yelled. "Follow me!"

Albus and Scorpius found themselves sleeping next to each other, their beds very close. That night, Albus fell asleep. When he awoke the next morning, however, he was not at Hogwarts.

He was back in the cupboard.

...

A/N: There is chapter 1. Please Review. Chapter 2 will be up soon, hopefully before Christmas. Anyway, PLEASE REVIEW! It makes my day.

Hugs and Bugs,

Smileyface.

: ]


	2. Letters, Letters and more Letters

A/N: Okay, you guys. Here is the next chapter. I hope that you enjoy it. :)

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It was a day like any other, Albus thought. Save for the fact that he had woken up in a cupboard under some stairs. That was the first strange thing. The second being, everyone seemed to not be paying him any mind. It was as if he didn't exist. When he left the cupboard and attempted to talk to someone, they just ignored him or grunted at him. Albus knew that he wasn't dreaming anymore-this was far too real to be a dream. Last night, he had gone to bed in the Slytherin dormitories, and this morning he woke up under the stairs again. Albus was so confused by it all. Apparaently, this family was going somewhere today, so they left him in the care of some muggle woman that lived next door. She didn't seem like such a bad lady, but he was wary of her. Something seemed off about her.

That evening, the boy called Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand-new uniform. Albus supposed that was what it was they had gone after that morning. Smeltings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren't looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life, Dudly had boasted. As Al looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, The man called Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. The Petunia woman burst into tears and said she couldn't believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, he looked so handsome and grown-up.

Albus didn't trust himself to speak. He thought his ribs might already have cracked from trying not to laugh. There was a horrible smell in the kitchen when Al went in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. He went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in gray water.

"What's this?" he asked.

Her lips tightened as they always did if he dared to ask a question.

"Your new school uniform, " she said.

Al looked in the bowl again.

"Oh," he said, "Can't I just get new robes from Diagon Alley?" he asked.

Petunia stiffened. "Where did you hear that name?" she asked accusingly, pointing dying tongs at Albus. Al thought maybe he shouldn't have opened his mouth in the first place.

"Um...no...nevermind." and turned and left the kitchen.

Dudley and Vernon soon came in, and both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from the new uniform. Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table. They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat.

"Get the mail, Dudley, " said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.

"Make Harry get it. "

"Get the mail, Harry. "

"That's not my name. And make Dudley get it, you told him first. Git could use the excercise." Al muttered the last bit under his breath.

"Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley. "

Albus dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from someone named Marge, a brown envelope of some sort, and - a letter addressed to a Harry Potter. Al didn't feel right going through his father's mail, but since everyone around here was calling him Harry, he assumed he could open it. Albus picked it up and stared at it. The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written inemerald-green ink. It looked like the Hogwarts letter Albus had received earlier that year. But it couldn't be. His father had been graduated from Hogwarts for almost 20 years. Why would he be getting a Hogwarts letter? Turning the envelope over, Albus saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H. Yup. Definitely a letter from Hogwarts.

"Hurry up, boy!" shouted Vernon from the kitchen.

"What are you doing, checking for letterbombs?" He chuckled at his own joke.

Albus went back to the kitchen, looking over the letter. He handed Vernon the brown envelope and the postcard from the Marge lady, sat down, and slowly began to open the yellow envelope. Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard.

"Marge's ill, " he informed Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk. -. "

"Dad!" said Dudley suddenly. "Dad, Harry's got something!"

Al was on the point of unfolding the letter, which was written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of his hand by Vernon.

"Hey!" said Albus, trying to snatch it back.

"Who'd be writing to you?" sneered Vernon, shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn't stop there. Within seconds it was the grayish white of old porridge.

"P-P-Petunia!" he gasped. Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high out of his reach. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise.

"Vernon! Oh my goodness - Vernon!" They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Al and Dudley were still in the room. Dudley, Al supposed, wasn't used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick.

"I want to read that letter, " he said loudly.

"G-Get out, both of you, " croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope. Albus didn't move. "What's wrong with the letter?" Al asked confused.

"Let me see it!" demanded Dudley.

"OUT!" roared Uncle Vernon, and he took both Albus and Dudley by the scruffs of their necks and threw them into the hall, slamming the kitchen door behind them.

Dudley was trying to listen and look through the peephole, so Al got down on the floor to see from below. What on earth was going on? It was just a Hogwarts letter, right? What was wrong with it?

"Vernon, " Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the address - how could they possibly know where he sleeps? You don't think they're watching the house?" she asked.

"Watching - spying - might be following us, " muttered Uncle Vernon wildly.

"But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don't want - - "

Al could barely see Vernon's shiny black shoes pacing up and down the kitchen. "No, " he said finally. "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer... Yes, that's best... We won't do anything... "

"But - - "

"I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took him in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?"

That evening when he got back from work, Vernon visited Al while he was in his cupboard.

"Where's the letter?" asked Al, the moment Vernon had managed to squeeze through the door.

"Gone. It was addressed to you by mistake, " said Uncle Vernon shortly. "I have burned it. "

"It was not a mistake, " said Albus angrily, "it had the address- even the cupboard on it. Besides, Hogwarts doesn't make mistakes." Al said, irritably.

"What?" gasped Uncle Vernon, holding his big, beefy hand to his mouth. "How do you know about...urm...that place? We've never told you...but of course..." he conitinued, mumbling. "I should've known. It's probably inate in them, the freaks...they've probably been talking to him for years behind our backs..." He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which looked quite painful.

"Er - yes, Harry - about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking... You're really getting a bit big for it... We think it might be nice if you moved into Dudley's second bedroom." Vernon said.

"Why?" asked Albus. These people surely didn't care about him before, and he doesn't understand why they should all of a sudden.

"Don't ask questions!" snapped Vernon. "Take this stuff upstairs, now."

The Dursleys' house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge), one where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and thingsthat wouldn't fit into his first bedroom. It only took Al one trip upstairs to move everything that was in the cupboard to that room.

He sat down on the bed and stared around him. Nearly everything in here was broken, Al supposed. He couldn't really tell what all these Muggle toys were, but they all looked like they didn't work. Al wasn't even sure magic could fix some of these. The only thing that Al recognized was a television set, with a giant hole in it from something; His mum and dad kept a telly at home, so they could watch tv and the like. Of course, it was all Muggle programing, except for a few channels that you had to change the telly with your wand to get at. There was also a large birdcage, with absolutely nothing inside of it. Al supposed it had an occupant at one point, but it was long gone by the looks of this cage. There were also shelves full of books. They were the only things in the room that looked as though they'd never been touched.

From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother, "I don't want him in there... I need that room... Make him get out... " Al sighed and stretched out on the bed. He wondered what on earth was going on, and if he was going slightly mad. Sometimes if felt like this world was real, and then sometimes it felt like his life at home with his family was real. Sometimes, Al would spent a lot of time here, days, weeks, even, and then end back up in his Slytherin dormitory. This world seemed to be going by quicker than his own, Al assumed the dates were trying to coincide. Not that he knew what the bloody hell was going on in the first place. He needed to talk to someone about this. But who? Professor Longbottom? Headmaster Slughorn? Albus sighed and turned back over on his new bed and fell fast asleep.

The next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock. He'd screamed, whacked his father with his stupid school stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and he still didn't have his room back. Vernon and Petunia kept looking at each other darkly. When the mail arrived, Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Al, made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted,

"There's another one! 'Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive -"

With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, Harry right behind him. Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact that Al had grabbed Vernon around the neck from behind. He wasn't sure why he was fighting so hard to get his acceptance letter. If they didn't let him go, someone from the school would come and get him, but Al supposed it was the principle of the matter. You don't just take post that's not yours. Although, Al thought, technically, it was his dad's mail. After a minute of confused fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting stick, Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with the letter clutched in his hand.

"Go to your cupboard - I mean, your bedroom, " he wheezed at Al.

"Dudley - go - just go. " Al walked round and round his new room, pacing in anticipation. He just couldn't wait until this nightmare was over and he was back in Hogwarts. Vernon didn't go to work that day. He stayed at home and nailed up the mail slot.

"See, " he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, "if they can't deliver them they'll just give up. "

"I'm not sure that'll work, Vernon. "

"Oh, these people's minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they're not like you and me, " said Vernon, trying to knock in a nail with the piece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him.

On Friday, no less than twelve letters arrived for A Potter. Al smirked as he watched the owls try and deliver the letter. As they couldn't go through the mail slot they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides, and a few even forced through the small window in the downstairs bathroom. Vernon stayed at home again. After burning all the letters, he got out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and back doors so no one could go out. He hummed a song as he worked, and jumped at small noises.

On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Twenty-four letters addressed to a Mr. Harry Potter found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of the two dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window. While Vernon made furious telephone calls to the post office and the dairy trying to find someone to complain to, Petunia shredded the letters in her food processor.

"Who on earth wants to talk to you this badly?" Dudley asked Al in amazement. Al just ignored him, and went back to cooking dinner, as his aunt had ordered him to do.

On Sunday morning, Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy. "No post on Sundays, " he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, "no damn letters today - - "

Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply on the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked, but Al leapt into the air trying to catch one.

"Out! OUT!" Vernon seized Al around the waist and threw him into the hall. When Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut. They could hear the letters still streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor.

"That does it, " said Vernon, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tufts out of his mustache at the same time.

"I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!" He looked so dangerous with half his mustache missing that no one dared argue. Ten minutes later they had wrenched their way through the boarded-up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway. Dudley was sniffling in the back seat; his father had hit him round the head for holding them up while he tried to pack his television, and two more big clunky muggle items in his sports bag. They drove. And they drove. Even Petunia didn't dare ask where they were going. Every now and then Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while. "Shake 'em off... Shake 'em off, " he would mutter whenever he did this. "It's not going to work, you know." Al informed them. "Hogwarts won't just give up." However, Vernon didn't listen to Al and just turned up the radio in the car so the music would drown him out. They didn't stop to eat or drink all day.

By nightfall, Dudley was howling. He'd never had such a bad day in his life. He was hungry, he'd missed five television programs he'd wanted to see, and he'd been complaining nonstop about a kompuetoor. Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy-looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. Dudley and Albus ended up sharing a room with twin beds and damp, musty sheets. Dudley snored but Al stayed awake, sitting on the windowsill, staring down at the lights of passing cars and wondering what the hell was going on with his life. Why was he stuck here with these people? He wanted him mum and dad, he wanted to see the familiar green banners of the Slytherin dormitories...hell, he even wanted to see his prat of a brother. Anyone, please, just make this world go away... They ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast the next day, and Al huffed. Aparantlly, he wasn't going home just yet. How many days had it been on this side? Al wondered. They had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to their table.

"Scuse me, but is one of you Mr. H. Potter? Only I got about an 'undred of these at the front desk. "

She held up a letter so they could read the green ink address: Mr. H. Potter, Room 17, Railview Hotel. Cokeworth. Al made a grab for the letter, but Uncle Vernon knocked his hand out of the way. The woman stared.

"I'll take them, " said Vernon, standing up quickly and following her from the dining room. Wouldn't it be better just to go home, dear?" Petunia suggested timidly, hours later, but Vernon didn't seem to hear her. Exactly what he was looking for, none of them knew. He drove them into the middle of a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head, got back in the car, and off they went again. The same thing happened in the middle of a plowed field.

"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked Petunia dully late that afternoon. Vernon had parked at the coast, locked them all inside the car, and disappeared. It started to rain. Great drops beat on the roof of the car. Dudley sniveled. "It's Monday, " he told his mother.

"The Great Humberto's on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a television."

Monday. This reminded Al of something. If it was Monday - and you could usually count on Dudley to know the days the week, because of television - then tomorrow, Tuesday, was July 31st, his dad's birthday. He wished he was in his own home so he could tell his dad Happy birthday, and give him a present. Vernon was back and he was smiling. He was also carrying a long, thin package and didn't answer Petunia when she asked what he'd bought.

"Found the perfect place!" he said. "Come on! Everyone out!"

It was very cold outside the car. Vernon was pointing at what looked like a large rock way out at sea. Perched on top of the rock was the most miserable little shack you could imagine. One thing was certain, there was no television in there. "Storm forecast for tonight!" said Vernon gleefully, clapping his hands together. "And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his boat!"

A toothless old man came ambling up to them, pointing, with a rather wicked grin, at an old rowboat bobbing in the iron-gray water below them.

"I've already got us some rations, " said Vernon, "so all aboard!"

It was freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces. After what seemed like hours they reached the rock, where Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house. The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed, the windwhistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty. There were only two rooms. Vernon's rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and four bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and shriveled up.

"Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" he said cheerfully. He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. Albus, however, thought it was unicorn turds. If Hogwarts wanted to get in contact with him, a little storm wouldn't stop them. As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows. Petunia found a few moldy blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten sofa. She and Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door, and Harry was left to find the softest bit of floor he could and to curl up under the thinnest, most ragged blanket. The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. BOOM. The whole shack shivered and Albus sat bolt upright, staring at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in. They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake. "Where's the cannon?" he said stupidly. There was a crash behind them and Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a gun of some kind in his hands - now they knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with them.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you - I'm armed!"

There was a pause. Then -SMASH! The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flaton the floor. A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggymane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair. The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bentdown, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped alittle. He turned to look at them all.

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey... "

He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear.

"Budge up, yeh great lump, " said the stranger. Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Vernon. "An' here's Harry!" said the giant. Al looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile. Al recognized the man at once. It was Hagrid, his dad's half-giant friend. FINALLY, someone from the wizarding world. Albus had never been so glad to see anyone and his eyes shone with tears.

"HAGRID!" Al smiled, running up to him and giving him a great, big hug. The man, surprised, pat Al on the head and smiled.

"Why, I didn't think you'd know me yet. How've you been, Harry?" Al cried and cried. He didn't realize that he missed Hogwarts this much.

"Awful! I want to go home...please take me home...I want to go back to Hogwarts..." Al cried.

Hagrid just smiled and pat him on the head. "Don't worry, we'll be at Hogwarts soon enough. But, don't you want to read your letter, Harry?"Al ignored the fact that even Hagrid called him by his father's name. "Well, don't you?" Hagrid asked, holding the letter out to him. It seemed like now, after all this fuss, Al was finally going to get the letter that seemed to be the topic of discussion. Al stretched out his hand at last to take the yellowish envelope, addressed in emerald green to Mr. H. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea. He pulled out the letter and read:

...

 _HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_  
 _Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc. , Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. OfWizards)_

 _Dear Mr. Potter,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress_

...

Al nodded. It was exactly what he thought it was. The Hogwarts letter. There were only a few things that bugged him, which was that Albus Dumbledore, his namesake, had been dead for around 20 years now, and Professor McGonagall wasn't at Hogwarts anymore; she was retired. Composing himself and drying his eyes, Al nodded.

"Okay, I've read it. Can we go now?" he looked up at Hagrid, who seemed to be looking at Albus in facination.

"Y-Yeah. O'course we can. Just grab what you want and we'll go."

Al nodded and sighed. Finally, he was going back to Hogwarts. Now this nightmare would finally be over. Al grabbed one or two items, looked back at the Dursley's one more time, and followed Hagrid out of the hut.

...

A/N: Well, you guys. There it is. Chapter 2. I really hope you guys are liking this story. I got so disheartened for a while when I saw I didn't have a single review, and then I got one and it gave me the inspiration to keep going. So please, review. Please. They're what keeps me going.

Hugs and Bugs,

Smileyface.

: ]


	3. Diagon Alley

Albus followed Hagrid outside of the cottage to be met with the boat Vernon had bought. Al didn't think it looked as if it would hold Hagrid's weight, but didn't say anything to avoid offending the half-giant.

"Say Harry...are you all righ'? You seemed right eager to get out of there." Hagrid noticed.

Al swallowed. What was he supposed to say? That he didn't know what the bloody hell was going on? That he was his father's son trapped in his father's body? That he thinks someone poured something strange into his morning pumpkin juice and that this whole thing was one giant hallucination?

"Ummm...Hagrid...I...I don't know how to explain it. It sounds crazy." Al said.

"Don't worry, Harry. Nothing sounds too crazy when you live in the magical world." Hagrid tried to assure him. Al shook his head.

"No, you don't understand...I'm...I'm not Harry Potter."

Hagrid looked at him with an odd expression on his face.

"Well of cours' you're Harry Potter. What else could you be? The scar on your forehead is right proof enough." he said.

Startled, Al looked over the side of the boat to see his own reflection for the first time. It occurred to him that this was the first time he had looked at himself while he was Harry.

Hagrid was right, of course. When Al looked at his own reflection, there was a very prominent lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead.

"Bloody hell." Al cursed. He sat back in the boat and put his head in his hands.

"Are you all righ', Harry?" Hagrid asked, concerned.

Al shook his head.

"No, I'm not. I'm going mad." he said.

"We're all a little mad, Harry. Nothin' wrong with tha'." he tried to be comforting, but Al just shook his head.

"You don't understand, Hagrid. I'm not Harry Potter! I'm his son, Albus." he looked at Hagrid straight in the eye.

"Albus? Like Professor Dumbledore?" Hagrid asked. He wasn't sure what Harry (or Albus) was talking about.

Al nodded. "Yeah. My dad named me after him." Al said. "But I don't understand what's happening! Why am I suddenly in my father's body, almost 25 years in the past? It doesn't make sense." Al muttered.

Hagrid sighed. "H-Albus..." he started.

Al looked up at him. "I just don't understand what's happening." Al cried. "I want to go home...and...at the risk of sounding like a complete baby...I want my mommy."

Hagrid looked at Al with a mixture of sadness and pity.

"Well...I can't say I really know what you're talking about, or what's going on, but if you want me to call you Albus, I will. Plus, when we get to Hogwarts, you can ask Dumbledore. I'm sure he can help you." Hagrid said.

Al sniffed a bit and held back more tears, nodding.

"Well, anyway, we best be off, Albus, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer stuff fer school." Hagrid said.

Al nodded. "Okay. And you can call me Al." he said.

"Okay. I will."

Al sighed and thought about Diagon Alley and having to do all his school shopping all over again. Then he remembered something.

"Um - Hagrid?"

"Mm?"

"I haven't got any money to buy anything from Diagon Alley."

"Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?"

Al looked confused. "My parents?"

Hagrid shook his head. "Harry's parents, I mean. First stop fer us is Gringotts. James and Lily kept their money for Harry in their own vault, which has just been sitting there for a while. It's the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe - 'cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." Hagrid drew himself up proudly. "He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you - gettin' things from Gringotts - knows he can trust me, see."

Al nodded and looked up at the sky. It was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight.

"How did you get here?" Al asked.

"Flew," said Hagrid.

"Oh, okay." Al was just wondering.

"Yeah - but we'll go back in this boat of your uncle's. Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got yeh. Seems a shame ter row, though," said Hagrid, giving Al another of his sideways looks. "If I was ter - er - speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?"

"Why not?" asked Albus.

Hagrid siged a great sigh.

"I was expelled. They snapped my wand and everything. Still keep the pieces in here though. Hagrid pulled out a pink umbrella, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and they sped off toward land.

After a while of silence, the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall. Hagrid folded up a newspaper, (Al supposed he had pulled it out of his giant coat) and they clambered up the stone steps onto the street.

Passersby stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Al couldn't blame them. I mean, he was half-giant for Merlin's sake! Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary muggle things like parking meters and saying loudly, "See that, Al? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?"

They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand "Muggle money," as he called it, gave the bills to Albus so he could buy their tickets. Al used muggle money all the time when he would go into town with his parents into muggle London, so it wasn't a real issue for him.

People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent.

"Still got yer letter, Al?" he asked as he counted stitches.

Albus took the parchment envelope out of his pocket.

"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh need."

"I know."

Al unfolded the second piece of paper, and read:

...

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set of glass or crystal phials

1 telescope set

1 brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

Al tried to contain his laughter as he watched Hagrid struggle doing mundane tasks. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in the muggle way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow.

"I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic," he said as they climbed a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops.

"Technology and brains." Al muttered. "My grandfather says muggles are the smartest people in the world, to be able to come up with fake magic."

Hagrid nodded. "He's not wrong."

Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Al had to do was keep close behind him. They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, before they finally reached...

"This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Al's shoulder and making his knees buckle.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Al, "is this - can this be - ?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter... what an honor."

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Albus and seized his hand, tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back."

Al didn't know what to say. Everyone was looking at him. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was looking at him with an odd look on his face.

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Al found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."

"So proud, Mr. Potter, I'm just so proud."

"Always wanted to shake your hand - I'm all of a flutter."

"Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."

Albus shook hands again and again - Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.

"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry (they were around others so Hagrid didn't want anyone to suspect anything was off by calling him Al), Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Al's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you."

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?" Al asked. Something about this teacher seemed off to Al.

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.

But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Al to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.

"Must get on - lots ter buy. Come on, Harry."

Doris Crockford shook Al's hand one last time, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.

Hagrid grinned at Albus.

"I expect you're used to that. I mean, Harry's famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh - mind you, he's usually tremblin'."

"Yeah. Dad still had people come up and shake his hand. Is that Professor man always that nervous?" Al asked. There was something about that man that Al couldn't quite put his finger on, and he didn't quite like it.

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience... They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag - never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject - now, where's me umbrella?"

"Three up... two across... " he muttered. "Right, stand back, Al."

He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he had touched quivered - it wriggled - in the middle, a small hole appeared - it grew wider and wider - a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons - All Sizes - Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver - Self-Stirring - Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.

"Yeah, you'll be needin' one," said Hagrid, "but we gotta get yer money first." Hagrid started walking down to Gringotts, Al following right after.

"Here we are. Gringotts." said Hagrid.

They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was a goblin. The goblin was about a head shorter than Al himself. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Al noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

...

"Yeah, Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob Gringotts," said Hagrid.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid and Al made for the counter.

"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter's safe."

"You have his key, sir?"

"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Al saw a goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals.

"Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.

The goblin looked at it closely.

"That seems to be in order."

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

The goblin read the letter carefully.

"Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he and Al followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.

"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Albus asked.

"Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that."

They got in the cart and started off down towards the vaults. Al never liked riding in these things. He looked at Hagrid and he didn't look any better. In fact, he looked very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.

Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Al gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts. He had never been inside his parent's vault before, he'd always stayed in the cart with his siblings while his parents retrieved the money. He knew that his family had money, but this was just...amazing.

"All yours," smiled Hagrid.

Hagrid helped Al pile some of it into a bag. It didn't take very long, and, when they were finished, Hagrid turned to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?"

"One speed only," said Griphook. Hagrid sighed.

They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine until they finally reached vault seven hundred and thirteen.

Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.

"Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away.

"If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there," said Griphook.

"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" asked Al.

"About once every ten years," said Griphook with a rather nasty grin.

Al paled.

Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, Al was sure, and he leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels at the very least - but at first he thought it was empty. Then he noticed a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat. Albus wanted to know what it was, but knew better than to ask.

"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut," said Hagrid.

One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts.

"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Al, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so Al entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling nervous.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she said, when Al started to speak. "Got the lot here - another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. He looked a lot like Scorpius. A lot, in fact. But Al knew better. In fact, Al knew this boy was probably Scorpius' relative in some way, they looked too much alike for them not to be related. Madam Malkin stood Albus on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said Al.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice, nothing at all like Scorpius'.

"Then I'm going to drag them off to took at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Even though he was only with them for a short while, Albus was strongly reminded of Dudley.

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"No," said Al.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Al said again. "But my brother does."

"I do - Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

That got Albus thinking. What house WOULD he be in? He was already sorted into Slytherin, but would he get sorted somewhere else a second time around? His father was a Gryffindor, so what did that mean for him?

"No." Al said again.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been - imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

Al actually snickered at that.

"I say, look at that man!" said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

"That's Hagrid," Al told the boy. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," said the boy, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?" the boy asked.

"He's the gamekeeper," said Harry. He was liking this boy less and less every second.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage - lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"I think he's brilliant," said Harry coldly.

"Do you?" said the boy, with a slight sneer. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," said Al shortly. Of course, HIS parents weren't dead, his grandparents were, but the boy didn't know what was going on, and honestly Al didn't feel much like going into the matter with this boy.

"Oh, sorry," said the other, not sounding sorry at all. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard, top of their class. Head Boy and Girl in their time." Al said, remembering the stories his father had told him of his grandparents.

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families."

"What makes you say that?" Al was starting to get annoyed at this boy.

"Well, they're different. Beneath us. They don't have any magical lineage."

Al looked at the boy. "Actually," Al corrected him, "Muggle born witches and wizards have a wizard or witch ancestor. That's where the magic comes from. It just resurfaces many generations later." Al corrected him.

The boy looked at him skeptically. "Hm. Well. I can't say I knew that. My father told me that they're magic thieves and that they take wands from real witches and wizards and try to pass themselves off as equals to us." the boy said.

"Well...we can't always believe what our parents tell us."

The boy looked thoughtful for a moment-but only for a brief moment-before speaking again.

"What's your surname, anyway?"

"Potter. You?"

"Malfoy. I'm Draco Malfoy."

So this little git was Scorpius' father. Al smirked a bit.

Before they could talk any further, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear," and Albus, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to Draco, hopped down from the footstool.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," said Malfoy.

Al nodded and left the shop.

They finished most of their shopping quickly, since Al knew exactly where to go and what to buy.

"Just yer wand left - A yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present."

Al shook his head.

"You don't have to-I mean it's not even MY birthday, it's my dad's."

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at - an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'."

Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Albus was now carrying a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. He recalled his dad had a pet snowy owl named Hedwig that Hagrid had gotten him, so he supposed this was the same owl.

"Thank you, Hagrid. Dad told me he named the owl you got him Hedwig, so I suppose that's your name now." Al said to the bird.

"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly. "Just Ollivanders left now - only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Al felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Al jumped. Hagrid must have jumped, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the spindly chair.

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," said Albus awkwardly.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Al. Al wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it - it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Albus were almost nose to nose. He could see himself reflected in those misty eyes.

"And that's where..."

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Al's forehead with a long, white finger.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do..."

"Don't blame yourself, Mr. Ollivander. You couldn't have known." Al told him.

He shook his head. "You're right, you're right...but still." Then he spotted Hagrid and grinned.

"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again... Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid.

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.

"Er - yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces, though," he added brightly.

"But you don't use them?" said Mr. Ollivander sharply.

"Oh, no, sir," said Hagrid quickly. Al noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.

'Yeah, right.' he thought.

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. "Well, now - Mr. Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"My right." said Al.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Al from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. just take it and give it a wave."

Al took the wand and waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try-"

Al tried - but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no - here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Al tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere - I wonder, now - yes, why not - unusual combination - holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Al took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious..."

He put the wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious... curious...

"What's curious?" Al asked.

Mr. Ollivander gave him a blank stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather - just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother - why, its brother gave you that scar."

Al swallowed. He remembered his father telling them the story of when he'd gotten his wand, but Al didn't remember what it was until now. Al felt as if he were holding his own wand. He supposed that the wand was choosing Harry's body, not his soul. Which is why Al felt so comfortable using his father's sword. If and when he returned to his own body, Al was sure his dad's wand wouldn't feel so natural to him anymore.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter... After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things - terrible, yes, but great."

Albus shivered. He didn't like Mr. Ollivander too much. He paid seven gold Galleons for his wand, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop.

Al sighed when he realized that he'd have to go back to the Dursley's. Since it wasn't September 1st yet, he had to stay there until it was time for him to go to Hogwarts. He didn't want to. He REALLY REALLY didn't want to, but Al supposed if his dad could do it, he could.

Hagrid helped Al on to the train that would take him back to the Dursleys, then handed him an envelope.

"Yer ticket fer Hogwarts, " he said. "First o' September - King's Cross - it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find me... See ya later, Al. I'm going to talk to Professor Dumbledore about your situation and he'll probably want to see you very soon, probably the first or second day you're at school. He can help you out, Al. You'll see. Whatever it is that's happening to you, Dumbledore will know. Great man, Dumbledore. He'll get you home." Hagrid smiled at Al, who simply nodded.

Giving Hagrid one last hug goodbye, Al boarded the train that would take him back to the Dursley's. He turned to look back at Hagrid, but he'd already left.

...

A/N: Okay, so I just want to clear the air about something. Harry did not tell his children everything about his life. All he really told them was that he defeated a really dark wizard and that he survived a killing curse when he was a baby, along with a few stories here and there. So no, Albus does not immediately recognize Quirinus Quirrell. But it's okay, as Al will learn later on about his Dad's past as he tries to juggle two different lives. So? What did you think? I hope you guys liked it. Reviews are what make my day and inspire me to write, so please review. I can't wait to work on Chapter 4.

Hugs and Bugs,

Smileyface.

: ]


	4. The Hogwarts Express

Albus spend a whole month living with the Dursley's as his father. Al couldn't wait to go back to school so he could find out what was happening to him. He knew he wasn't crazy. He wasn't Harry Potter. He knew that. Al didn't really know what to do. Dudley was so scared of him he wouldn't stay in the same room, while Petunia and that horrible Vernon guy didn't force him to do anything. As a matter of fact, they didn't speak to him at all. Al supposed they were too scared of him now. Although this was an improvement in many ways, Al would have preferred if they'd yelled at him. He'd had plenty of yelling from his mother growing up. But they didn't. Al was left ignored. Albus wondered how his dad had survived before Hogwarts. This house was horrid.

So Al stayed in his room. He had decided to read his school books. Once everything was sorted out and he was back where he was supposed to be, Al would have already read ahead. Some of them were very interesting. He lay on the bed reading late into the night. Every night before he went to sleep, Albus ticked off another day on the piece of paper he had pinned to the wall, counting down to September the first.

On the last day of August he realized he'd better speak to- _ugh, those people_ -about getting to King's Cross station the next day, so he went down to the living room to where they were.

"Hey."

Dudley saw Al, screamed, then ran out of the room.

Uncle Vernon grunted to show he was listening. Al rolled his eyes. Couldn't these people even SPEAK to him?

"I need to be at King's Cross tomorrow to go to Hogwarts."

Uncle Vernon grunted again.

"Will you take me, please?"

Grunt. Al supposed that was his stupid way of saying yes.

"Thanks."

He was about to go back upstairs when Vernon actually spoke.

"Funny way to get to a wizards' school, the train. Magic carpets all got punctures, have they?"

"What? Magic carpets?" Al was confused.

"Eh...never mind. Where is this ruddy school of yours, anyway?"

"Scotland." said Al, "In the mountains near a loch. " he said. "I don't know precisely. No one does. It's Unplottable. I just get on the train at platform Nine and three-quarters and it takes me there." Was this progress? Al wondered. At least they were speaking to him.

His great aunt and uncle stared at him.

"Platform what?" Vernon asked.

"Nine and three-quarters." Did he stutter?

"Don't talk rubbish," said Vernon. "There is no platform nine and three-quarters."

"Of course there is." Al defended.

"Barking," said Uncle Vernon, "howling mad, the lot of you. You'll see. You just wait. All right, we'll take you to King's Cross. We're going up to London tomorrow anyway, or I wouldn't bother."

"What's in London?" Al asked.

"We're taking Dudley to the hospital," growled Uncle Vernon. "Got to have that ruddy tail removed before he goes to Smeltings."

Al figured that was all that was going to be said on the matter, shrugged, then went back upstairs.

...

Al didn't sleep at all that night. He was too excited and nervous to go back to sleep. Finally it was September 1st. He was going back to Hogwarts. Soon this would all be a terrible nightmare. He checked his Hogwarts list yet again to make sure he had everything, saw Hedwig was shut safely in her cage, and then waited for the Dursleys to get up. Once they had everything, they set off.

They reached King's Cross at half past ten. Vernon dumped Al-or rather Harry's really-trunk onto a cart and wheeled it into the station for him. Al thought this was very unlike him, until Vernon stopped, facing the platforms with a nasty grin on his face.

"Well, there you are, boy. Platform nine - platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, do they?"

Oh. So that's what he was up to. Since he was a muggle, he didn't know how to get onto the platform, so he just thought he was being clever.

"Have a good term," said Vernon with an even nastier smile. He left without another word.

Al took his trolley and started to look around. He found it soon enough. Platform 9 and Platform 10. He'd never been his without his mum and dad, but he found it quick enough. He was getting ready to go in, when he heard a woman's voice.

"Now, what's the platform number?" said the voice. Al stopped and turned around. He would know that voice anywhere. It was his Grandmum Weasley. Sure enough, Al spotted her with her children. His family. He quickly got out of the way and hid behind a pillar. They didn't know him. Not yet. It wasn't like he could let his emotions take him over. He had to be calm.

"Nine and three-quarters!" piped a small voice, who was holding Molly's hand, "Mom, can't I go... "

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."

Wow. That was his mother. His mum. Wow, she was small.

Al watched as his Uncle Percy went through the barrier.

"Fred, you next," Molly said.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said Fred. Al knew it was Fred...because he was the only one he didn't recognize. He and George really did look strikingly similar. But he'd know his Uncle George anywhere and that boy was Fred, not George.

'Doy, Albus' he thought to himself. They'd been twins. Of course they'd be identical.

"Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George?" Fred teased.

"Sorry, George, dear." Molly said.

"Only joking, I am Fred," said the boy, and off he went. George called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later, he had gone. Al's heart couldn't take much more of this. He'd have to say something.

Coming out from behind the pillar, he spoke. "Excuse me,".

"Hello, dear," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too."

She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was a tall, thin, and gangling boy, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose. Uncle Ron hadn't changed much from when he was a kid.

"Yes," said Al. "It's my first year. It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise, dear." Al looked at his grandmother with a few tears in his eyes. He couldn't let them fall.

"Hi." his Uncle said, holding out his hand. "I'm Ron Weasley."

"Hi. Nice to meet you." Al said, holding his hand out for his uncle to shake. "You ready to go?" Al asked.

Ron nodded, and they both pushed their carts through the barrier. And suddenly, it was as if the last month had been a terrible dream. The scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven O'clock. Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, and cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. They had even passed a boy crying about a toad.

"Would you like to sit with me? I don't really feel like sitting alone." Al asked his uncle.

"Huh? Oh, yeah sure. Let's find a compartment."

Al and Ron pressed on through the crowd until they found an empty compartment. Even with Ron's help, Al was having difficulty putting away his trunk.

"Need some help?" Came a pair of identical voices. It was Fred and George.

"Yeah, I could use a hand, thanks." Al told them.

With all of his uncles' help, Al's trunk was put away neatly.

"Thanks," said Al, turning to face them.

"What's that?" said George suddenly, pointing at Al's scar. Well, Al supposed, it was technically his DAD's scar, but...

"Blimey," said Fred. "Are you?"

"He is," said George. "Aren't you?" he asked Al.

"What?" asked Al.

"Harry Potter, "chorused the twins.

"Oh, him," said Al. "I mean, uh...yes, I am." Al supposed it would be for the best if he just went along with it for now. It's not like he could've told them the truth. They would've thought him mad.

The three boys gawked at him. Then, to his relief, a voice came floating in through the train's open door.

"Ronnie? Fred? George? Are you there?"

"Coming, Mom."

With a last look at Harry, the twins and Ron hopped off the train.

Al sat down next to the window where, half hidden, he could watch his family on the platform and hear what they were saying. Grandmum had just taken out her handkerchief.

"Ron, you've got something on your nose."

His uncle tried to jerk out of the way, but she grabbed him and began rubbing the end of his nose.

"Mom - geroff" He wriggled free.

"Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" said Fred.

"Shut up," said Ron.

"Where's Percy?" asked their mother.

"He's coming now."

The oldest boy came striding into sight. He had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes, and Al noticed a shiny silver badge on his chest with the letter P on it. His uncle Percy had been prim and proper forever, Al supposed.

"Can't stay long, Mother," he said. "I'm up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves -"

"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?" said George, with an air of great surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea."

"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," said Fred.

"Once -"

"Or twice -"

"A minute -"

"All summer -"

"Oh, shut up," said his uncle Percy.

"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" said Fred.

"Because he's a prefect," said their mother fondly. "All right, dear, well, have a good term - send me an owl when you get there."

She kissed Percy on the cheek and he left. Then she turned to the twins.

"Now, you two - this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've - you've blown up a toilet or -"

"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."

"Great idea though, thanks, Mom."

"It's not funny. And look after Ron."

"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us."

"Shut up," said Ron again

"Hey, Mom, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?"

Al supposed they were about to talk about him. Or, his father rather.

"You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station? Know who he is?" Fred asked.

"Who?"

"Harry Potter!"

Al heard his mother's voice pipe up.

"Oh, Mom, can I go on the train and see him, Mom, eh please..." Al smirked. He had heard stories that his mother had fancied his dad for awhile. This must've been the very start of it.

"You've already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn't something you goggle at in a zoo. Is he really, Fred? How do you know?"

"Asked him. Saw his scar. It's really there - like lightning."

"Poor dear - no wonder he was alone, I wondered..."

"Never mind, do you think he remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?" Fred asked excitedly.

Their mother suddenly became very stern.

"I forbid you to ask him, Fred. No, don't you dare. As though he needs reminding of that on his first day at school."

"All right, keep your hair on." Fred sounded annoyed.

A whistle sounded.

"Hurry up!" their mother said, and the three boys clambered onto the train. They leaned out of the window for her to kiss them good-bye, and Al could see his mother begin to cry.

"Don't, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls."

"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat."

"George!"

"Only joking, Mom."

The train began to move. Al tried to keep his eyes on his family for as long as possible. But soon, he saw as his mum and Grandmum Weasley disappeared as the train rounded the corner.

The door of the compartment slid open and his uncle Ron came in.

"Sorry about that." he said, sitting down at the seat opposite Al. "Mum does that every year. She just has to see us off."

He noticed his Uncle Ron staring at him, then looking quickly out of the window, pretending he hadn't looked.

"Hey, Ron."

The twins were back.

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train - Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," mumbled Ron.

"Harry," said Fred, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then."

"Bye," said Al and Ron. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out.

Al nodded, although he was lying, it wasn't like he could just tell his uncle who he really was.

"Oh -well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," said Ron. "And have you really got - you know..."

He pointed at Harry's forehead.

Al pulled back his...his father's...his...bangs to show the lightning scar. Ron stared.

"So that's where You-Know-Who.."

"I suppose." said Al, keeping up the farce. "but I can't remember it."

"Nothing?" said Ron eagerly.

"Nope, sorry. Guess I'm not very exciting, huh?"

"Wow," said Ron. He sat and stared at Al for a few moments, then, as though he had suddenly realized what he was doing, he looked quickly out of the window again.

"It's okay, I don't mind you staring. It must seem kind of cool, huh?" asked Al.

"Uh...I'm sorry...I didn't mean to..." said Ron.

Al laughed. "It's okay. Really. I have a feeling that we'll be good friends, you and me."

Ron smiled. "I'd like that."

Al stuck out his hand for his uncle to shake. "Well then, it's very nice to meet you."

Ron shook it good-naturedly. "Likewise."

For awhile they were in silence before Ron broke it.

"So...I heard you went to live with Muggles," said Ron. "What are they like?"

"The ones I were living with? Ugh, awful. They hate magic, and everything about it. I was barely even allowed to mention Hogwarts in their presence. In fact, once I got my letter, they wouldn't even speak to me."

"Ugh, sounds like they were right awful." his uncle said.

Al nodded. You could say that again. "Well, what about you? What's your family like?" Al asked his uncle. It wasn't as if he didn't already know, but for his uncle's sake at least, he felt like he should ask.

"Well, there's seven of us," said Ron. He was looking gloomy. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. My little sister Ginny is going next year. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie, my brothers, have already left - Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the other members of my family, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."

Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat, which was asleep.

"His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff - I mean, I got Scabbers instead."

Ron's ears went pink. He seemed to think he'd said too much, because he went back to staring out of the window.

Scabbers. Al's eyes widened. Peter Pettegrew. That was a name he recognized. What...what should he do? Should he...should he do something about it? About Peter? I mean...here he was in his uncle's hands. It would be easy...Just...

 _Days rewound, Nights unfurlled,_

 _Feel the struggles and the toil_

 _What was he is now you_

 _Followed footsteps his life through_

 _Change it not, for there are dire consequences._

That...that saying. What on earth could these dire consequences be? Are they saying he can't change anything? Why not? What should he do?...

He must've been a little too quiet, cause his uncle spoke up.

"You alright, mate?"

Al shook his head a little, then nodded.

"Yeah, sorry. I spaced out a little bit, I suppose."

"What were you thinking about?" Ron asked.

Al waved it off. "It's nothing. Nothing important, anyway. Sorry. Ummm...so anyway, who's your favorite quidditch team?" Al asked. He must've said the right thing, because Ron started to talk on and on and on.

Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Since Al had only had breakfast, he supposed he'd get something, but Ron's ears went pink and he muttered that he'd brought sandwiches.

Al figured that he'd be able to clear his mind and think more clearly if he had sugar. It was his one weakness. He'd always loved sugar. Chocolate frogs and Droobles, licorice wands and Bertie Bott's beans. So Al packed on a whole lots of sweets and brought them into the compartment.

Ron stared when Albus tipped it all onto an empty seat.

"You must be hungry."

"Of course," said Al, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty. "I love sweets."

Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, "She always forgets I don't like corned beef."

"Take some of these" Al offered, throwing about half of his sweets in Ron's direction.

"You don't mind?" asked Ron.

"Not at all. Go on, take whatever you want." said Albus.

"Cool, chocolate frogs. What card did you get?" Albus asked Ron.

"Morgana. Again. I've already got about six of her."

Albus unwrapped another Chocolate Frog and picked up the card. It showed a man's face. He wore half- moon glasses, had a long, crooked nose, and flowing silver hair, beard, and mustache. Underneath the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore.

"So this is Dumbledore..." said Albus, who had never met the man. He thought his dad might have taken him to meet his portrait when he and James were really little, but he didn't remember it that well.

"Don't tell me you'd never heard of Dumbledore!" said Ron. "Can I have another frog? I might get Agrippa ."

Albus turned over his card and read:

 _ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

 _CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS_

 _Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling._

Albus looked at his namesake. He had a twinkle in his eye when he smiled. The picture waved at him, then left the frame.

"Aw...he's gone and left..." Al was hoping to look at him a while longer.

"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day," said Ron. "He'll be back. No, I've got ANOTHER Morgana again and I've got seven of her now... do you want it? You can start collecting." Ron said.

Al nodded his head. "Yeah, sure." Once Al had pocketed the card, he looked back at Dumbledore's card. Dumbledore sidled back into the picture on his card and gave him a small smile. Ron was more interested in eating the frogs anything, and Al agreed. He would collect the cards later, once he was back in his own life in the Slytherin dorm...

Slytherin. Oh no. His dad was sorted into Gryffindor, not Slytherin. What would the hat do? Where would it put him? If he was living as his dad, he should be in Gryffindor, but if he was being true to himself, he was a Slytherin. Al decided not to think on it for now. The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone, and now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced boy Albus had passed on platform nine and three-quarters came in. He looked tearful.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up eventually, I'm sure," Albus comforted.

"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him..."

He left.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk." Al sneered at the animagus on Ron's lap. Pettigrew was still snoozing there.

"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look..."

He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.

"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway.."

He had just raised his wand when the compartment door slid open again. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.

Al grinned. Aunt Hermione. Wow she was small. And what in Merlin's name was wrong with her teeth?

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron, but the girl wasn't listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."

She sat down. Ron looked taken aback.

"Er - all right."

He cleared his throat.

"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

He waved his wand, but nothing happened. That prick Pettigrew stayed gray and fast asleep.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said his aunt. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard - I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough - I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

She said all this very fast.

Harry looked at Ron, and was relieved to see by his stunned face that he hadn't learned all the course books by heart either.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

"Harry Potter," said Albus, who was getting irritated introducing himself as such.

"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course - I got a few extra books. for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.

"Hm. I can't say I knew." said Albus.

"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermione. "Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad... Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

And she left, taking the toadless boy with her.

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it," said Ron. He threw his wand back into his trunk. "Stupid spell - George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud."

"Yeah, it didn't really sound like a real spell. What, uh...what house are your brothers in?" asked Albus, already knowing the answer, but trying to keep the conversation going.

"Gryffindor," said Ron. Gloom seemed to be settling on him again. "Mom and Dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."

"What's wrong with Slytherin?" Al asked, only a little offended.

"It was the house that...You-Know-Who was in. They say that not a single witch or wizard who went bad wasn't in Slytherin." said Ron. He flopped back into his seat, looking depressed.

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true." said Albus, trying to take Ron's mind off houses. He knew he didn't have anything to worry about anyway. Ron would be in Gryffindor, just like his entire family.

"So what do your oldest brothers do now that they've left, anyway?"

Al knew what his family did when he was in his right time, but did they always do that?

"Charlie's in Romania studying dragons, and Bill's in Africa doing something for Gringotts," said Ron. "Did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the Daily Prophet, but I don't suppose you get that with the Muggles - someone tried to rob a high security vault."

That got Al's attention.

"Really? What happened to them?"

"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My dad says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."

"What's your Quidditch team?" Ron asked.

"Er - I like the Holyhead Harpies," Al said. "My mum...I mean a friend of my family's...was a member of the Harpies, so it's kinda default in me to like them."

"Oh, yeah, they're a good team. Don't suppose anyone likes the Cannons anymore."

They were starting to talk a little more about quidditch when the compartment door slid open yet again, but it wasn't Neville the toadless boy, or Hermione Granger this time.

Three boys entered, and Albus recognized the middle one at once: it was Draco Malfoy from Madam Malkin's robe shop. He was looking at Albus, when he smiled.

"They were saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So we meet again." Draco said.

"Yes," said Albus, trying to keep things friendly. He was looking at the other boys. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely mean. Standing on either side of the pale boy, they looked like bodyguards.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Albus was looking."

Al held out his hand for all of them to shake. "Nice to meet you. Would you like to sit down with us?"

Draco, with a bit of a condescending smirk, nodded.

"Sure. Thanks." Draco said.

Ron looked like he didn't really want to be sharing a compartment with Malfoy, but he bit his tongue.

"Oh, Ron, Draco. Draco, Ron."

Malfoy smirked at him. "I know who you are. My father's told me all about your family. Red hair, freckles, and too many mouths to feed." he said.

Ron turned red, but bit back. "And I've heard a lot about your family too, Malfoy. Your family were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side." He turned to Malfoy. "Well, that's just what I've heard. Who knows, really?" Ron and Draco sat glaring at each other for a good minute before Albus spoke up.

"Okay, guys, come on. You can't dislike each other just because your parents don't like each other. Draco, you're not your father, and Ron, you are not yours. Can't we just bury the hatchet and try to be...friends?" Al asked.

Ron and Draco continued to glare at each other before Ron sighed.

"Okay. Okay Harry. You're right. I shouldn't judge him based on his father."

It looked physically painful for him to do so, but Ron held out his hand.

Malfoy stared at him for a moment before sneering and taking it.

"Well, maybe not friends...but not enemies." Draco said. Suddenly, the door to their compartment slid open.

"Hey, you guys better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!" She chided, seeing the animosity in the compartment.

"Whatever- I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors," said his Aunt Hermione in a sniffy voice. "And you've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?"

Ron glared at her as she left. Albus peered out of the window. It was getting dark. He could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The train did seem to be slowing down.

He and Ron took off their jackets and pulled on their long black robes. Draco, Crabbe and Goyle were already in theirs. Ron's were a bit short for him, you could see his sneakers underneath them.

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Al sighed. "Come on, you guys. Let's get going."

They crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets and joined the crowd in the corridor.

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Albus shivered in the cold air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Albus heard a familiar voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?" Al nodded, to show he'd heard.

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.

"C'mon, follow me - any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice.

"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened onto the edge of a great black take. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry and Ron were followed into their boat by Draco and Hermione. Crabbe and Goyle were seated in a separate boat. "Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then - FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?" Hagrid asked Neville.

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door. Al sighed. He was finally home again. Soon he'd speak with Dumbledore and he would help him figure out what was going on.

...

A/N: Well, here's the next chapter. Sorry it took so long to upload. But, here it is. And I'm working on the next one already, so you guys shouldn't have to wait too much longer. Also, please review. It's what thrives me to keep going. When I don't get many reviews, it tells me no one is interested. So please, just press the little button below and leave a comment.

Hugs and Bugs,

Smileyface.

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